


Autumn leaves

by WilwyWaylan



Series: Feuilly Week [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Probably ooc, at least it was fun, but you know how it is, just some stupid crack, once in your head it doesn't go away, so crack and more crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 01:43:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12470696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WilwyWaylan/pseuds/WilwyWaylan
Summary: One might find more than one might think when going to the park to work. Like a nice afternoon.... or a meeting with a decidely strange person.





	Autumn leaves

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Feuilly Week !  
> Once again, sorry for the OOCness of it all. It was funnier in my head.

It had been a grand idea to sit into the park to work. It was a beautiful day, just a tiny bit chilly, a hoodie-and-scarf day. Feuilly had settled under a large maple tree, his books spread around him, a notebook on his lap. His favourite scarf, a very large piece in reds and yellows, was wrapped at least twice around him, keeping him warm. The sun was shining through the branchs fanning over his head, beautifully enhancing the colors of the leaves and falling in small spots on the white pages. 

The park was very quiet in this early afternoon. Some people were sitting like him, on the grass or against trees, reading alone or talking in small groups. One of them even had a guitar and was playing something, the notes drifting towards the place Feuilly was sitting, following the gusts of wind. There were a few families, a bit further away, playing on the swingsets, and he could hear their squeals of delight. A small, orange cat was running in circles, chasing the falling leaves, or maybe its tail. A man wearing a scarf longer than his and a beanie pulled very low on his forehead was gesturing wildly, probably telling the man sitting beside him a dramatic story. Without the sound, the effect was quite funny, and Feuilly looked at them from time to time, a small smile on his lips. 

A leaf fell on the notepad in his lap, and he brushed it aside. But it was immediatly replaced by another. Then a third one. Curious, Feuilly picked one up. They were small, and not at all maple leaves. Strange. He looked up, to find where they were coming from... and was met with a whole pack of them, right in the face. He spluttered and flailed, trying to get rid of the sudden attack. That's when a booming laugh reached his ears. Swiftly, he brushed the last leaves away, including the one stuck in his scarf that was tickling him, and turned around to face the source of the attack.

Someone was standing just behind him. Probably someone who just threw those leaves at him, judging by their satisfied face and the stalk they were twirling between his fingers. Feuilly was half-tempted to return the gift, maybe with a book in the face, but the man was easily a head taller than him, and a head larger too. Maybe two. With broad shoulders and muscular arms that, Feuilly had to admit, filled the tee's sleeves quite nicely. And covered with tattoos, too. That man may have been very rude, but... he wasn't bad looking. Not at all. If one was into strong, muscular men with dark hair in a bun, a beard, and laughing eyes. Not that Feuilly was, no. He was angry at him. Very angry. At that tall, good-looking man who was laughing at him because he just covered him with leaves. What an ass.

Feuilly crossed his arms, threw the man his meanest glare (which was quite convincing, he knew it), and asked in a controled voice :

\- What the hell ?

The man didn't seem fazed in the least by his angry expression. His smile just grew a bit wider when he answered :

\- Yes, pumpkin ?

Oh no, even his voice was nice, low and rumbling like a laugh getting ready to burst. But what with the nickname ? Who /was/ that man ? And what did he want ?

\- Who are you, Feuilly asked, and who do you think you are, going around to throw dead leaves at people and calling them like that ?

His voice had grown steadily louder, and a few people were glancing at them. Feuilly took a deep breath to calm himself a bit, but didn't move otherwise, waiting for an answer. The man was still smiling from ear to ear, not at all impressed.

\- Well, he finally said, you know, you looked so much like a fall deity that...

\- A fall deity ? What the hell are you talking about ?

\- With your red hair and your scarf. You look like fall. So I figured the fall deity should be honored with a shower of leaves.

\- What the hell are you talking about ?!

This time, Feuilly had yelled, and more people looked at him. The man held his gaze, silently. Then suddenly, he uncrossed his arms and shuffled a bit, looking every bit like a small kid getting scolded. 

\- Okay, he muttered, I... was just looking for an opener.

\- You were looking for an opener, Feuilly repeated.

The man nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets.

\- And the only way you found to approach me was... to throw leaves at me. And then top it with a stupid line about a fall deity and whatnot ?

\- Well... I... thought that it would be funny ? But it's not. Sorry for... y'know, disturbing you. And getting leaves in your hoodie too.

He looked sorry alright, pushing the leaves aside with his foot. With a sigh, Feuilly uncrossed his arms too, mimicking the man's stance.

\- That was stupid, yes, he stated. There are other ways to come and talk to someone, that doesn't include... offerings to the fall deity. Like introducing you first.

He sat back among his books, but didn't take the pad back, instead playing with his pencil, waiting to see what the man would do. Said man hesitated for a moment, then came to sit beside him. Feuilly obligingly pushed a few of his books aside to give him space. Once settled, the man extended his hand.

\- I'm Bahorel, he said. And you ? Or should I call you the Fall Deity ?

\- Do that and I might reconsider. I'm Feuilly. Please don't make any puns about the leaves.

He shook the man's hand. There was a slightly awkward silence, and he took his book back, more to have something to do than to go back to his studies. Bahorel grabbed another one, looked at the title, and asked :

\- What are you studying ?

\- I'm taking an evening class about political laws. 

Feuilly wouldn't have thought that this kind of information would have warranted anything else than a polite nod, but the large grin was back on Bahorel's face. He laid a hand on Feuilly's arm and leaned forwards.

\- I have a friend you have to meet. He's a lot into law too, and injustices, and saving the world. I'm sure you'll have lots of things to discuss. 

That was... weird. But then again, why not ? 

\- Sure.

\- He's just there.

The man pointed to the group gathered around the man with a guitar. Feuilly just had the time to pick up his books and shove everything into his bag, before Bahorel grabbed him again, by the elbow this time, and led him to the others, waving frantically. Well, Feuilly thought while trying to follow the taller man's steps, maybe that wouldn't be so bad ? That Bahorel was a weirdo, sure, but he didn't seem like a bad guy. And not that he was lonely, but new friends wouldn't hurt. After all, they couldn't be all strange, could they ?

(Yes, they could.)


End file.
